For Keeps
by alotofmillion
Summary: For Kurt and Blaine, moving to New York and going to college was perfect. And then everything wasn't perfect. One-shot future!fic. And pure fluff, to boot!


I wrote this as a Tumblr one-shot, via a prompt from a friend of mine. It's jealous!Blaine and comforting!Kurt, basically, and complete unabashed fluff. Your feedback is awesome!

Also, in my own personal head!canon, Kurt and Blaine are the same age and graduated the same year. Thank you and goodnight.

* * *

><p>Kurt always knew how to drive Blaine up a wall. Even four years into their relationship, all it took was a look and a whisper to ping Blaine's, err, "interests," whether that be at a coffee shop (their favorite haunt, Caffe Dante, in the Village), at dinner, or even in class, in the rare moments their schedules happened to align.<p>

Truth was, Blaine had always been something of a cockslut. Even in high school, legs crossed under the McKinley desks or chairs decidedly six inches apart in Glee club, he found Kurt insatiable. And once they'd granted their hands visas south of the equator, there was no stopping him. Their first time had pushed it over the edge.

Just looking at Kurt hurt sometimes, and if Kurt was insatiable in high school, he was one hundred times more irresistible in college.

For one thing, the Lima boy, all sass and falsetto, had grown a good inch or two taller since his senior year - unfortunate for Blaine, who bore the downfall of his half-Filipino roots, but fortunate for Kurt's form fitting tops and skinny jeans. Quite frankly, the man made head turns on a daily basis; yet no head whipped around faster than Blaine's. Blaine thanked his lucky stars every day that he could wrap his fingertips around Kurt's belt loops and claim him as his and his, alone, despite the proverbial line around the block, all begging to tap Kurt.

Because the truth was, as much as Blaine had turned Kurt's life around, Blaine knew he'd be a lost cause without him. Kurt had showed up at the right place, at the right time, and offered Blaine the best gift in the world: a best friend. Being gay in Western Ohio wasn't exactly a ticket to popularity, and both boys, alone and passionate and searching for that one special person, had found it over apple and cranberry salads at Breadstix and crappy off-off-off-off-off-Broadway productions of RENT.

Once Kurt had asked Blaine to follow him to New York, a desperate glint in Kurt's eyes, Blaine had already been filing applications to Manhattan-based universities, himself. Ever since Kurt had gone on incessantly about Nationals, he knew it would be the perfect place for them.

He loved Kurt even before he could put a word to it. More so, he loved being in love. And at just sixteen, after just a few short months of walking alongside Kurt Hummel, he believed in the l-word far more than he believed in God, the universe, or his vast collection of Brooks Brothers' sweater vests.

He didn't even have to think on it. He pulled Kurt into a hug, kissed him for all it was worth, and all but offered to start packing right there and then. Sure, Blaine's parents hadn't been pleased, especially his over-demanding father, but there was little they could say once Blaine had been easily accepted into New York University's Tisch School of the Arts.

And New York had been everything they could ever dream of, from long walks in Central Park to quiet kisses in secondhand bookshops to Merecedes Benz Fashion Week to Christmas - or rather, window - shopping on Madison Avenue. He could kiss and caress and love his boyfriend out in the open, no holds barred, and relish in the fact that he had found his soul mate from such a young age. And Kurt, too, reciprocated every feeling, delivering a million and one words in just the stroke of his hand on Blaine's wrist or the bat of his eyelashes, his pupils dilated and deadset on Blaine.

They had laughed like fools when they picked out their first apartment, a single bedroom shoebox in Brooklyn with enough charm and potential to make up for its lofty rent and noisy neighbors. They painted the walls bright crimson and fucked into all hours of the night, screaming and exclaiming each others names into black silk pillows and sheets, which Kurt had claimed was an added aphrodisiac. Blaine had scoffed, rolled his eyes, and flipped Kurt over, drowning out his gibberish with the clever use of his tongue.

In their junior year, Blaine took a full load of classes and made good tips on weekends at a local coffee shop, sometimes performing gigs, while Kurt gained a prestigious internship at Michael Kors, showing as much potential as a "young Alexander McQueen." Or so they said.

Everything was perfect.

And then everything wasn't perfect.

His name was James, and in more ways than one, he was Kurt's Sebastian. A junior assistant to Mr. Kors, himself, Kurt had met him on the very first day. And from day one, James had taken him under his wing, throwing out a million and one promises which would never come to pass. Blaine had been ecstatic for Kurt at first; that is, until he actually met the pompous prick. James was all height, attitude, and swagger, three attributes which made Kurt weak in the knees. Kurt was oblivious to James' conquests, all but chastising Blaine's insistence that James was after "one thing and one thing only."

Because the truth was, as much self-confidence as Kurt Hummel exuded each and every day of his life, he was still that starstruck boy from Lima, Ohio. He pinched himself on a regular basis, floored that he could breathe, dance, sing, and live in the greatest city in the world. He talked the talk and walked the walk, but the fact that New York society wanted anything to do with him was overwhelming.

But Blaine knew better. He knew Kurt better than Kurt knew himself. And he knew Kurt could walk into any house, throw down his portfolio, and run the place, himself. He also knew that Kurt had the sexiest piece of ass in all five boroughs, and worse off, he knew that it would be only time for Kurt to see beyond Blaine's Westerville roots and move on to higher profile pastures.

After just six weeks of Kurt's incessant blabbering over all the finer points of James, he'd had enough. The fight had been explosive, ending with rampant claims that Blaine was "tired and overworked" and "searching for an argument" and "just jealous."

It would have been one thing had he been wrong. But Blaine was jealous, and not just of James. Sure, he was ecstatic for Kurt's success, but just once, Blaine wished he had a damn thing he could show for his forthcoming degree. Aside from open mic nights at the coffee shop and Lula's Pub, his life had become a steady stream of writing term papers and steaming milk. Sure, he was happy to live in New York and do the laundry and clean tables, but his life was far from glamorous.

That night, Blaine had slept on the sofa, wrapped up in a throw Kurt had bought to accent the contrasts of both their complexions. He woke before Kurt, making himself busy as the days passed, avoiding any and all conversation. He knew it was unhealthy, and frankly, he was terrified that this was it. They'd scuttled before, but never over another man. What's worse, Kurt seemed completely oblivious to anything Blaine was going through.

It was that Friday, four days later, when Kurt stepped thru the door of their third level apartment, cheeks flushed and collar slightly disheveled. Blaine was tying up his shoe laces and getting ready to go jogging, anything to take his mind off the inevitable, when Kurt made his presence known with the click of the door handle.

Blaine had been avoiding Kurt's gaze for days, waiting for an apology from Kurt, a sign that everything was all right, that James was completely out of the picture, anything. But all he saw was a broken down man, pale and understated and four inches shorter. And he'd been crying. Blaine could tell. It wasn't cold enough for Kurt's cheeks to flush and shallow.

He didn't need a reason or an apology to stand up to his feet and wrap Kurt up into a bundle of limbs. Kurt rested his head over Blaine's shoulder, letting the tears flow one after the other, his fingers grappling into the back of Blaine's sweater.

"I'm sorry, Blaine, I never meant to..." Kurt trailed off, shutting eyes even tighter.

Blaine clutched him tighter, feeling his body quiver around him. "It's okay. It's more than okay."

But Kurt shivered more, and moments later, he struggled from Blaine's lock and looked deep into the man's eyes. Hunching against the door to appear shorter, he brought his thumb up to brush against Blaine's cheek, which showed the subtle signs of scruff from days without shaving. Any other time, Kurt would have loved it.

Kurt opened his mouth to speak, but all he could do was choke on his words, a stray tear falling down his cheek.

Blaine slid his hands over Kurt's hips, looking deep into Kurt's eyes. "Baby, what's wrong?"

Swallowing his pride, Kurt let the tears fall one right after the other, struggling to find the words. "You were right all along..." He lifted his hand to elaborate before he brushed it over his shoulder, rubbing at his collar bone, which was exposed through the v-neck jumper he was sporting.

"I was right?" Blaine crinkled his brow as Kurt nodded his head, and Blaine instinctively rubbed Kurt's hips with his thumb as Kurt took in another shallow breath.

"James is the scum of the earth." He bit down on this lip, which were chapped and raw from days of mulling over their argument. Or so Blaine thought.

Blaine didn't respond, but oh, he'd wanted to. He wanted to burst into a side-splitting grin and throw Kurt over his shoulder (if that was possible) and break into song, but he could see the disappointment streaked all over Kurt. Kurt had put all of his trust into James, only to be used in some way or the other. And that was it. It struck Blaine like a slap in the face. Within seconds, fury broiled through his veins, and even Kurt was taken aback as the fire in Blaine's eyes began to blaze.

Three words.

"He kissed you."

That was it. The bruised lips. The sunken gait. The _guilt_. That had to be it.

Kurt stared on numbly, before he nodded his head and pressed his eyes shut tightly. Blaine could feel his hands retreating from Kurt's hips and his foot stepping back, before Kurt all but slapped him on the wrist and grabbed him back.

"Wait."

His eyes glinting with tears, Kurt looked on at his boyfriend, life partner, the love of his life, with big, sullen eyes. "Just wait, Blaine."

Blaine looked up from Kurt's hand, before he looked up to meet the man's eyes. His own throat had dried up over the course of a few seconds.

"I'm waiting."

Taking in another shallow breath, Kurt continued. "He... he could tell I was down, and I told him we were fighting..."

Blaine could feel his chest tighten with angst, his fingers and wrist struggling to inch from Kurt's grasp. Kurt instinctively pressed his leg closer to Blaine, needing to touch him and feel that closeness in any way, shape, or form.

"He, he made some off-handed comments about you, something about 'leaving Ohio behind' and seeing the big picture," Kurt continued, sucking in a deep breath. "That's how he referred to us. 'Ohio.' Said that I could have it all, this whole city, and that he could give it to me, all I had to do was ask."

Blaine's heart burned as he closed his eyes. He wanted to disappear right there and then, whatever the cost or repercussions. His greatest fear had come true. Finally, Kurt had met that one person in the city who believed in him as much as Blaine did. Yet, James was caustic, self-serving, and shallow, three qualities that Blaine never aspired to be.

"So you let him kiss you?" Blaine asked quietly, his eyes still momentarily closed.

"I - what? No, I told him to mind his own damn business. That you were more a man than he'd ever be." Kurt had to laugh, despite his own better judgment. "Well, apparently you can't speak to your superior that way, so he butted me up against the wall..."

Kurt's voice grew small then, even embarrassed. Within seconds, Kurt's eyes filled up back up with tears, and without hesitation, Blaine's followed suit. If nothing else, Blaine trusted Kurt. Aside from their argument, Kurt hadn't given Blaine any reason not to.

"Oh, baby," Blaine's voice finally broke, and he pressed his hand to Kurt's cheek, leaning in closer to press his head against his temple. Kurt hunched on instinct, wrapping his arms over Blaine's shoulders.

"I tried to get him to stop. He wouldn't stop."

"He just kissed you? He didn't hurt you? You promise?" Blaine looked up back at him, his eyes drifting over the bottom of Kurt's lips. He could see the fear streaked in Kurt's eyes, a look he hadn't seen since their junior year in high school, when Kurt had poured his heart out in the Dalton common room.

Kurt couldn't help but smile then, and though he didn't need any reassurance, he knew he'd made the right choice in choosing Blaine. "I need some chapstick. And I need to brush my teeth. But no. No, he didn't hurt me."

He shook his head and closed his eyes, another stray tear falling down his cheek. Blaine brushed it away, then laughed at the cliche. They both laughed. But it didn't matter. They had each other.

Blaine was quiet for a few more moments, before Kurt broke the silence. "I quit the internship." Before Blaine could protest, Kurt held a finger of Blaine's cupid bow lips and softened his expression.

"It wasn't worth it to me," he continued. "It was a great experience, but at what cost?"

Blaine indicated a soft smile, but he stayed mum, his lips barely pursing with delight. For the first time in Blaine's life, he was speechless. And for Kurt, that was okay. One look from Blaine Anderson said a million words.

"This is for keeps, Blaine. You know that, right?" Kurt searched Blaine's eyes, running his fingers through Blaine's relaxed curls, which Blaine had finally agreed upon after years of Kurt's insistence.

Finally, Blaine gave a little nod, unable to shield the widening smile which came to him in seconds. "For keeps."

Kurt sighed in relief, before a beaming grin broke across his own lips. They bumped noses clumsily before their teeth clanked against a passionate kiss. The world seemed to stop as Blaine's feet lifted slightly off the floor, his arms wrapping tightly around his boy's lithe waist. He could see fireworks as the kiss carried on from the front door and into the bedroom.

And for the first time in years, Blaine knew he had Kurt all to himself. And nothing, and nobody, was going to take that away from him.


End file.
